


sacrifice

by sithsecrets



Series: valentine's week 2021 [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Desert, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Injury, Injury Recovery, It's bad, Minor Injuries, Near Death Experiences, Reader-Insert, Surviving together, but everything's okay in the end, din and reader get stranded in the desert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithsecrets/pseuds/sithsecrets
Summary: stranded in the tatooine desert, you and din must make the impossible journey back to mos espa on foot.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: valentine's week 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152113
Comments: 9
Kudos: 73





	sacrifice

The deserts of Tatooine are legendary, the sandy dunes and rocky canyons teeming with tales and myths. The Tuskens are a spectacle all their own, with their banthas and covered bodies, and there’s not one person on this planet that hasn’t had the displeasure of doing business with a Jawa. Countless greats have passed through this planet’s cities, negotiating deals and perpetrating plots that will have an affect on the galaxy for years to come.

To you, though, Tatooine is not some great, propped up location from a fairytale. No, this place is your home, or was your home until you made the decision to leave. You were born here, and now you will die here, sucking in the same hot, dry air you breathed on your first day of life as you take your final breath.

Din had promised that it would be a quick mission, in and out. Mando lets you call him that now, lets you call him by his first name. He whispered it to you just a few days ago, revealing this piece of his identity in the darkness of the Crest’s hull. What you wouldn’t give to be there now, cool and fed and sprawled out naked beside him…

Din had said it would be a quick mission, that’s what he _said_. Just you and him on a pair of speeders out in the desserts, in and out and easy. He needed you to watch his back, wanted you to do surveillance from up high— that’s why you came in the first place. Peli said she’d keep the baby, she was thrilled to have him for a day or two, and so it wasn’t a problem—

The baby, oh Maker… Who’s going to take care of the baby?

Things didn’t go to plan once you left the city, not at all. One speeder went dead halfway to Din’s coordinates, and so you the two of you were left with one vehicle. You made it alright, though your time was worse with both of you weighing down the machine.

It was hot out there, so hot, but you knew it would be that way. You had water in your pack, and some food, and you’d be fine. It was only supposed to be a day or two, right? And the suns would set eventually, and then you might even be cold...

Din made you perch high up on some rock, and you watched for hours through the binocs looking for the quarries. Two spice smugglers, that’s who Din’d been tasked with finding, and they were supposed to be stupid, too— that’s what Greef had said. “These two clowns are idiots.”

The two smugglers did come, and they were idiots as promised, but their friend was not. The third man found your lookout spot somehow, and he snuck up on you. Din was down in the sand, and before he had time to fly up and stop him, the man had already cut your side. It was meant to be a stab, but you avoided that, thank the stars. Even still, the wound was no minor scrape, and you panicked when you saw just how much blood was coming out of you.

Being who he is, it didn’t take Din long to subdue your attacker and the two quarries. He propped their bodies in a cave and said he’d come back for them with the ship later on, and you thought that was a fine idea at the time.

A bad feeling set in when you saw what had been done to you and Din’s singular speeder. One of the smugglers had disabled it while Din was busy murdering the man that hurt you, and now it lay useless in the sand. The crew of criminals had been riding on some kind of pack animals when the violence broke out, and all the commotion sent the three of them off in all directions. Din’s jetpack seemed like a viable option, but the instant he tried to pick you up, you screamed in pain. There was no way for him to hold you that didn’t hurt you terribly, and it’s not like you could latch onto his back. After that conversation, it took you and Din about five seconds to realize that you were fucked. And then… And then it was time to start walking.

The first day wasn’t bad, but it certainly wasn’t good either. The rationing of water began almost immediately, and you worried every time Din declined his share.

“You need it more,” he had said to you, “you’re hurt.”

And you were hurt. Your side smarted all the time, and the heat of the sun caked your own fluids to your skin. The bleeding did eventually stop, but the pain never subsided, and it wasn’t long before you were trailing behind.

When the suns set, it was time to stop walking and start shivering. Din made a small fire, and you did have an extra shirt, but none of it was enough with the damage you’d sustained earlier in the day. Sleep did come, but it was fitful, and you’re not sure Din so much as closed his eyes that night.

The heat came back with the dawn, and after several hours, it was all you could do to keep moving. Thirst burned your throat, and the dull ache of hunger twisted your insides. Din acted like he was fine, but you saw it. You saw the change in his gait, saw how his head drooped from time to time under the weight of exhaustion.

That second night, you insisted Din sleep while you took watch. It as hard to stay awake, and even harder to focus on looking for threats, but you did it anyway. You’d known many people who got lost in the dunes, heard more stories than you could count of what happens when you perish out in the sand. And as you sat there staring into the distance, you marveled at the idea that you yourself would soon come to experience these things yourself.

This will be your third day of walking, walking and walking and walking… You and Din have been making your way across the desert for hours now, and you’re growing more tired than you’ve ever been in your life. Gone is the ache in your stomach, gone is the burn in your throat— all you want now is rest, rest and reprieve from the sun’s relentless rays. Yesterday, you took to imagining yourself anywhere but here— tropical locations, the icy surface of Hoth, a planet where fresh, drinkable water fills every pond and lake and river— now, though, all you picture is rest. Oh, if you could just rest…

It takes you a long time to realize that you’ve fallen, longer than it should. You’re face down on the ground, sand filling your mouth, your nose… The granules aggravate the sunburn you’ve developed after days and days exposed to the elements, though you hardly even feel the sting as you lie there. It’s so good to stop walking, so good to close your eyes…

“Stay awake, _cyar’ika_. You can’t go to sleep, not right now.”

Din’s voice rouses you, it makes you pay attention again. He’s picking you up, he’s holding you in his arms—

“I don’t want to walk anymore, Din,” you say, voice cracked and broken. Once again, you think of water, but the thought is fleeting at best.

“You don’t have to,” he says at once. “I’ll carry you. We just have to get back, _mesh’la_ , and then we’ll be okay.”

In some deep recess of your mind, you decide that Din’s saying this to comfort himself as well as you.

“You’ll get back to Mos Espa,” you croak, shaking your head. “This is— I’m not going to make it.”

“Yes, you are, c _yar’ika_ , don’t talk like that.” Din spits the words out as if you’ve insulted him, half offended and half terrified and entirely unlike himself. Some small part of you wants to laugh— you’ve always wanted him to be freer with his emotions, and all it took was being marooned in the desert to get him to do it.

“You have to leave me, Din,” you insist, wriggling in his arms, trying to make him drop you. But Din holds fast, clamping down on your body like you’re all that tethers him to this world. And maybe you are, at this point. “I’m slowing you down. If neither of us gets back, we’ll— The baby, Din, the baby. You have to go back for the baby. You’re all he has, he’ll… he’ll…”

You want to cry, but your body has no tears to offer you. Through the fog in your mind, you picture the Child playing with Peli and her droids, waiting patiently for you and his father to return. The thought of how he’ll feel when the both of you never do is almost too much to bear, and you redouble your efforts, pleading.

“Leave me, Din, leave me here so you can go on. I’ve been slowing you down since the start, and now— The Child needs you. I’m not important, Din, but you’re his father. Just put me down and let me—”

“Stop talking,” Din cuts, exhaustion and frustration warping his broken voice. “Save you energy, _mesh’la,_ we’re almost there.”

Except you aren’t, and you know that. But even still, you do as Din says, too tired to argue with him any further.

There is more walking, and more feeling the sun on your face, and then your eyes are slipping closed. Far off in the distance, Din is telling you to look at him, to stay awake but you just can’t anymore. It’s so hot, and you just want to sleep…

The last thing you see before you fall unconscious is the sun, bright and blinding and all-consuming above you.

\---

No one is more surprised than you when you open your eyes again.

Beige is all you see in front of you, beige like the color of the dunes. For one fleeting moment, you think you’ve died, that this is all there is for someone who’s succumb to the desert— the sand has swallowed you whole, and now you’ll lie here under it for all of eternity. But then everything comes into focus, and the fog lifts from your mind. Sand dunes aren’t held up by supports, and they certainly don’t billow in the breeze.

 _A tent,_ you say to yourself, dizzy as you try to sit up, _I’m in a tent._

Someone’s attended to your wound, bandages and dressings where dirt and blood should be on your side. It still smarts when you try to stand, but you find yourself stronger overall. Somehow, someway, you’ve been revived, and even your sunburn doesn’t seem as bad as you know that it should be when you reach up to touch your face.

Carpets keep the sand off, three or four strewn on the ground in a patchwork. You’ve been laid out to rest on some sort of makeshift bed as well, nothing more than couple of pads and a blanket under your back, and not for the first time do you wonder where you are. Not for the first time do you wonder where Din is…

Heat envelopes you the second you pull back the flaps of the tent, but the temperature isn’t as high as it was when you collapsed. Sure enough, one look at the horizon tells you that it’s sunset, the sky purple-orange-pink as Tatoonie’s twin suns sink down further and further.

All around you are tents just like the one you emerged from, simple, beige structures made of coarse, thick fabric. You begin weaving your way through the complex, too afraid to cry out and ask for help. In any case, you’re not sure it would help, for you feel eerily alone, almost like everything around you is empty. That’s why it’s such a shock when someone jerks on your arm, the action catching you so off-guard that you cry out.

Cold fear is all you feel when you come to face the man that grabbed you, the dark eyes of his mask almost boring into you as he shouts and kicks up a fuss. You wait to be hurt, wait to be struck down and murdered, for you know how the Tuskens feel about outsiders, but the violence never comes. No, the man is actually leading you further into the camp, pulling on your arm, gesturing to more tents and beyond. The sounds he makes mean nothing to you, but if you could understand, you’re sure you’d hear, “Come with me, come on!”

And what else can you do except follow the Raider? What other choice do you have? He leads you past three or four more dwellings, and then the two of you stand before a larger, grander tent, one that makes the others look almost tiny. The Tusken calls out to whoever’s inside before you can so much as catch your breath, and then you’re being jerked through the flaps without a word of warning.

The first thing you see is fire, the smoke from the little blaze escaping out of an opening in the top of a tent. Small lanterns light the space inside, everything bathed in a warm, orange glow. There are carpets on the ground just like in your tent, layers and layers of them keeping the sand off everyone inside. Several Tuskens sit around the fire, but you barely see them after you notice the way the light glints off someone else.

When you told Din to leave you, you meant it. The baby couldn’t be orphaned a second time, and the idea of _both_ of you dying under the sun didn’t bear thinking about. But to know that he didn’t abandon you, that he really was going to carry you back to the city…

All conversation ceases the second Din gets up from the ground, and then it’s like the two of you are the only people in the whole fucking desert. He asks you if you’re alright, one hand on the side of your head as he murmurs through the modulator. You say yes and ask him the same thing, worried something happened after you went out of commission. He’s all armored and covered, face concealed like it has been since the moment you met him, and yet still you worry. You worry he fell down like you did, worry that he’s been sick from not eating and drinking. But if Din did collapse or become incapacitated for a period of time, none of it’s had any lasting effects. He tells you that he’s eaten and drunk plenty since the Tuskens saved both of you, urging you to stop fussing and come sit with him beside the fire.

Only when Din turns around do you remember that you have an audience, and you feel all eyes on you walk around the pit in the center of the room. You feel vulnerable before your hosts, keenly aware of the fact that you stand before them with your face and hair and hands bare. Thankfully, you’re not the only woman present, several veiled Tusken women dotting the circle of people. They’re beautiful in their own way, draped in beads, some of their masks ornately decorated with embroidery and mental embellishments. You know little of Tusken culture, but you think that this is a tent reserved for important members of this clan, for even most of the men have on small bits of finery.

Din keeps you close, uncharacteristically affectionate in front of these strangers. He holds your hand as he leads you to your place in the group, urges you to tuck up against his side by the fire, and you wonder why he’s showing you off so openly. He either trusts these Tuskens, which would be a bold move, or this whole ordeal’s shaken him badly. Either way, you’re not about to complain, relieved to be here with him at all. You really could have died out there in the sand, and the fact that you didn’t is still sort of blowing your mind.

The first thing you do when you get settled is express your gratitude to the Tuskens around you, thanking them sincerely for saving your life and treating your injuries. Din translates for you and the man who speaks next, and then you’re told one of the most incredible stories you’ve ever heard.

For the better part of half an hour, Din and the Tuskens tell you about how they slayed the great krayt dragon, working in tandem with a small group of villagers from the middle of nowhere. Din downplays his role in it all, but you know that he was the one who really took the beast down. That’s why the Tuskens consider him a friend in the first place, and it’s the only reason they saved the both of you— otherwise, they would have let you die, a fact they admit openly.

You reprimand Din for not telling you sooner because seriously, _he slayed a krayt dragon and made an alliance with the fucking Tusken Raiders_ , but all he offers is a humble, almost embarrassed, “It never came up, _mesh’la_.”

All you can do is huff at that, amazed not for the first time by how casual Din is about everything he does.

After the story’s done, a woman comes into the tent with a tray of thing for you. Because of their customs, the Tuskens won’t eat in front of you, and it’s not like Din’s about to take of his helmet for a meal, but you’re served food regardless. Neither the meat nor the hubba gourds taste very good, but you couldn’t care less— after days without food or water, even the bitter juice tastes like fine wine.

Din and the Tuskens talk as you eat, everything they say completely lost on you as you sit before the fire. Outside, the suns continue to set until it’s dark, and you feel yourself growing tired. You’re not sure if it would be rude to fall asleep in front of the Tuskens, the fear of offending your saviors forcing you to keep your eyes open every time they droop shut. Eventually, though, they take pity on you, and you and Din are given the Tuskens’ blessing to leave.

Back in your own tent, you and Din kneel on the carpets before one another, a single lantern lighting the space above your heads. He looks almost ominous like this, the dim, warm light casting him into shadow while simultaneously glinting off all the angles of his armor. Once again, you find yourself astounded by the fact that the two of you made it, that you’re here in Tusken encampment instead of dead out there in the sand somewhere. More and more often these days so you wish you could see Din’s face, but once again, you just can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want.

“I know you’re tired,” he says, fishing around in your pack until he produces a small jar, “but you have to put more of this on your hands and your face before you go to sleep. That’s what the women told me.”

“Do it for me?” you ask, knowing just how childish you sound without caring one bit about it.

Miracle of miracles, you make the Mandalorian _laugh_. “You just want me to touch you,” he huffs, but he’s taking his gloves off anyway.

Everything is quiet for those first few minutes, Din bending to his work diligently. The salve in the jar isn’t bacta, but it soothes the burning and the itching almost like magic. And maybe it is some kind of Tusken sorcery. You should be covered in blisters and sores after so much time in but Din says your face is merely peeling when you ask how bad it is. You haven’t actually _seen_ yourself yet, but the backs of your hands don’t lie, and anyway, why would he? The fact that you’re not in debilitating pain alone is enough to convince you that this stuff is a miracle cure, and you’d be content to put it on eight times a day for the next month if it means you won’t be disfigured by your sunburn.

“There,” Din declares softly, putting the lid back on the jar, and then the two of you are lying down on the little pallet bed together.

“Are you going to sleep?” you ask him, knowing how Din feels about resting when he’s not on the Crest.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, reaching out across the padding to hold your hand. “But you definitely should. The Tuskens are going to drop us off near the city tomorrow, and I still have to go back and collect the bodies.”

You’d nearly forgotten about that, about the quarries and how Din left their corpses sitting in the cave.

“We get the baby first, though. We said we’d be back days ago.”

You’re not one to make demands, but after all that’s happened, you _need_ to hold the Child in your arms. You know for a fact that he misses Din, and you worry that he feels abandoned by the both of you after all this time apart.

“We get the baby first,” Din affirms, and only then do you feel like you can close your eyes.

\---

Everything is hectic after you and Din finally make it back to Mos Espa. Peli wanted to know what happened, the baby wouldn’t stop clinging to either one of you, and then you still had to fly back out on the Crest and pick up the quarries…

All of that took hours, but now you’re finally back in the safety of hyperspace, your little family whole once again. The Child, after hours of holding fast to you and his father has decided that he’s tired now, dozing in his pram contentedly. You think it would be alright to leave him in the hull for a while, clicking the lid of the little bed shut before you climb up to the cockpit. Din, in his usual Din fashion, has been up here since takeoff, no doubt picking at the inner workings of his vambrace or studying one of those maps he loves so much.

You’re surprised to find Din unusually unoccupied when you make it up there, though, the dark T of his visor staring off in the blue streaks of light before him. For a moment, you think he might be sleeping, but that option’s crossed off the list the minute he turns to look at you.

“Everything alright?” you ask softly, coming around the pilot’s chair to sit beside him.

Din hums. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

A long moment of silence follows your question, everything so definitively quiet around you. It’s always like this in hyperspace, like the physics of sound don’t apply. You always feel like you need to whisper, half-expecting no noise to come out of your mouth whenever you do decide to talk. After all these months of living on the Crest, it’s the only thing you haven’t gotten used to.

“Don’t ever talk to me like that again.”

Din’s words catch you completely off-guard, the sentence striking you across the face as hard as any slap. He’s never spoken to you like that before, never told you not to _question_ him or whatever the fuck he means by that. You don’t—

“I mean—” Din blurts, huffing through the modulator like he’s frustrated. “I mean, just— the way you spoke to me in the desert. The things you said. Don’t ever talk about yourself like that, not in front of me or anybody else.”

Everything clicks, but words fail you. All you can do is sit there before Din and stare at him, trying to find the words over and over again.

“When we were out there,” Din begins, filling the void when you cannot, “when you fell down and I picked you up, you told me to leave you, _cyare._ You wanted me to _abandon_ you. You told me that you didn’t matter.”

“I wanted you to live,” you clarify. “Someone had to go back for the baby, and you’re his father. He needs you—”

“And he needs you too, _mesh’la_.” Din pauses, voice breaking when he goes to speak again. “ _I_ need you. So don’t ever ask me to do something like that again. You’re very important, more important than you know, and I don’t think I could handle hearing you talk to me like that again. Do you understand?”

You stand up to hug him, suddenly hit with the realization that you’re crying.

“I understand, Din.”

And then you’re holding each other like it’s all you know how to do— holding each other like you’re the only two people in the whole fucking galaxy.

**Author's Note:**

> this is part 4 of my valentine's week special! see the series for other parts!


End file.
